Red, White & Blue
by put here 2 feel joy
Summary: Harvey Dent's sister, Carley Dent, loves him with all her heart and will do anything for him no matter what--even ruin his reputation to save his life. Slight Joker/OC, Harvey/Rachel
1. As The Rush Comes

**Okay, this is the first TDK fanfic I've done and I'm really gonna work on this one. It's not going to be like my old stories and only have a few chapters then quit. No one liked that. Especially me. haha So I hope you like my new story and also I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my new friend/beta reader/TDK buddy, KissxTemptationx! Happy Birthday! Thanks so much for helping me and talking to me for the last 2 weeks or so.  
**

**So anyway, Enjoy!**

"HARVEY DENT FOR GOTHAM CITY," read the polished button pinned proudly to my jacket lapel that hung in my closet.

"TAKE BACK GOTHAM CITY: VOTE HARVEY DENT," demanded the bumper sticker on my shiny, black Nissan GT-R sitting in the car-park.

I believe in Harvey Dent.

I believe in Harvey Dent because he is my brother. Just saying that brings a soft smile to my face, even now. I'm so proud of him. He's been running for District Attorney with my help as his honored Campaign Manager for the last two months and I'd say were doing quite well. I'm sure there are some real scum bags and weirdos out there who would like to get a hold of Harvey in a dark alley some time soon because of what he's trying to do, but I know he can take care of himself. Hell, he's taken care of _me _most of his life. I figure it's time I pay him back for all those years he spent protecting and providing for me.

I lay here in bed. It's the crack of dawn and I have a very busy day ahead of me. Today is the first time that I have to take Harvey's place on the news. Gotham Cable News has requested a live interview with Dent but unfortunately he's very busy with a case right now and can't be bothered. He says that he's done too many T.V. spots to count. Now it's my turn. _"_Good luck, Carley, represent me well!_"_ I remember him saying to me with a hurried smirk before he shut the door to his office. Right, thanks Harv. I feel my head shaking back and fourth slowly on my white pillow, my face curling into a wry smile in the dark of my room. This was so typical of him. I sure hope he's grateful for me after all I've done for him lately.

Of course he is, said a comforting voice in the back of my mind, he loves you. He promised that day back then that he always would and that you would always be together. That day when mom and dad.._._–Don't think about that, Lee, now's not the time. I taught myself to squash any thoughts about that ill-fated day a long time ago. They always crept up on me at the worst possible times. Painful memories are never helpful when your already nervous about appearing on the news for the first time.

Coffee never really appealed to me as a kid. With all that hubbub about stunting your growth and staining your teeth, I was never fond of the drink but now that I'm more experienced with the grogginess early mornings, I've learned better. Coffee, more importantly, caffeine, is a total necessity to someone like me. I know the street and address of every coffee shop and café in the city and I know exactly what and what not to order at every one of those vendors. What can I say? It's a sort of talent I posses–a sixth sense, if you will. When in politics, coffee becomes your most valued source of energy. Today, I decided on a frou-frou drink they called a Cinnamon Spice Mocha in 'grande' size with a couple extra shots of espresso for an added kick. It sounded pretty good and hopefully that little boost can give me a few hours to work with. My small screen debut wont be until later on tonight but I still have a few other things to do today. I'm not sure wether to be thankful for having to wait for my interview or curse for making me stress about it all day.

I walked into the office, my tooth aching-ly sweet coffee half empty (or was it half full?) and I was stopped in my tracks. The T.V.'s volume was down low and all four people in the room were gathered around it like flies. Harvey's face was plastered on the screen as usual but something wasn't right. What was it saying? "Turn it up!" I blurted out.

"Harvey Dent offered _me _cash money to lie so he could wrongfully convict a good man_–a great cop_. When I refused, Harvey Dent said he'd go after me next. Harvey Dent is a liar..." I stopped listening. The T.V. was full of bull. I heard myself say, "What the hell?" out loud and my co-workers turned to me. I have to do something. I have to tell Harvey. If he didn't know about this he could be caught off guard by a rude reporter asking nosy questions. That could make him look even worse. This man's lie could tear down every advancement we've made in the last few months. Fumbling with my cell phone, I pressed speed dial number one.

_Ring... Ring... _"Carley, I –"

"Harvey! Did you see that?"

"Yeah, Lee", he says, "I saw it."

He sounded stressed and angry. I knew he was pinching the bridge of his nose because that's what he always did when he was worried.

I waited for a response. "... What now?" my voice was small, scared. I'm not always the most composed under conditions like these. I'm useless to him when things like this happen. I know this and he knows this. Times like now, I'm glad Harvey went through law school.

We were quiet for a short time while he thought. I waited on bated breath for him to say something; for him to come up with another one of his great last minute solutions. The four people in the room watched me like I was the next show on Prime Time.

After what seemed like minutes he told me to stay calm. "Were going to make it through this. After you hang up I need you to come straight here to my office. You, Rachel and I need to discuss what to do about this. Were going to find whoever hired that cop and bring them down." I could hear Rachel's voice in the background. She was already there.

I set my face. "Okay, I'll be there in a minute." I disconnected the call. _Calm Down, calm down. This is no big deal. Harv knows what he's doing._ I felt awful because this was supposed to be _my_ job. Harvey had enough on his plate already, why can't I ever help him instead of the other way round? He's going to have to do my job for me and pay me for doing nothing. This job that I get too flustered to do on my own. When I work for my brother I live well because he would never allow me to go without food on the table and a nice place to stay. And by 'a nice place to stay' I mean the best apartment in the city. Sometimes, I don't think I deserve it.

But I have to stay positive. For Harvey and for my city.

I rush outside and wave for a cab, it would take too long to go get my car. The garage was too inconveniently placed for a quick get away. If I were in some sort of trouble I'd be dead by now. The city really should look in to that. A yellow cab stops and I slide in on the worn leather bench seat in the back. "1539 South Farrow, and step on it." I've always wanted to say that. I don't think he catches the hint of humor in my voice. But really. I mean it. Step on it. Harvey and Rachel are cooking up some genius plan without me and I can't stand the thought of being left out.

Rachel Dawes. The woman was quickly becoming Harvey's whole world outside of the election and his beloved job. I don't want to sound mean but I don't know what he sees in her. Yes, she's intelligent and does a phenomenal job as Assistant District Attorney but when you talk to the girl her nose is always in the air. In everything she says you knew she thinks she's was better than you. I never want to come in second to _her _in Harvey's mind. Not after all he and I have been through. And it might just be me but, she's not even that pretty. I believe Harvey Dent could do better.

When we get there I pay the cabby and hurry through the glass doors. The secretary at the front desk looked alarmed at the sound of the door opening but when she saw it was me she smiled vaguely. Just living in Gotham made people jumpy and paranoid. I wouldn't be surprised if half the city were on anti-anxiety pills. People like her made Harvey's job seem even more worth it. She tells me that the elevator is out of order and she's sorry but I'll have to take the emergency stairs. There's a couple of guys coming in next week to fix it.

"I saw the commercial," she says. "Mr. Dent would never do anything like that, would he, Carley?" Her heavily made up face looked back at mine with curiosity. Sometimes I wondered why people never called me Ms. Dent.

I was shocked. "Of course not, Nancy!" She's seen him come in and out of this building every day and he must have talked to her when ever he could spare the time. That's just the type of guy he is. Everyone is worth his time. Especially girls who look like her. I tell her that, Harvey Dent, I stress his name, is not a liar and that he would never falsely convict a cop or anyone in Gotham. "Nearly every criminal that he address' in court has a solid case and he would never threaten anyone. I'm sorry about all this, Nancy." I apologized to her on behalf of the smear. I think that I'll be doing that a lot over the next few weeks.

Half way up the stairs, which was about five stories up, I realized that it had been a bad idea to wear high heels today. There was a window for me to look out near where I was standing. Just as I lean against the wall to take off my shoes something catches my eye hovering darkly over the city. Smoke. My brow contracts into a frown and I take a moment to think about what kind of chaos other people are experiencing at this very moment when I'm sitting here resting my feet in a stairwell. All over Gotham, there are citizens being raped, mugged, shot, knifed or somehow terrorized by other citizens turned criminal who were made by abusive parents, drugs and low income jobs. It's the only life they've known. Then there are the corporate lions dressed in silk and diamonds who have never even seen the slums and never thought about anyone but themselves. Fire and ice would look like identical twins compared to this. Times are hard, but weren't they always?

I look down where my hands are rested carelessly on the concrete window sill. There's a playing card under my hand... Why hadn't I noticed it before? Picking it up and flipping it over I also notice it's covered with blood. "Shit." I drop the card, disgusted. Great, now I have AIDS or West Nile all over my hand. Who the hell leaves a bloody card in a window? Wait. A bloody card with _writing_ on it. The letters were typed and in the white margins around the joker graphic.

"**Don't worry. It's nothing personal.**" It said in thick, black letters.

"... Personal?" I ask the card. What is that supposed to mean? Who's idea of a sick joke was this? Was this card meant for me..? I suddenly remembered where I was supposed to be. Harvey and Rachel were waiting for me. Looking down at the filthy card one more time, I leave it there. The climb up the next five stories feels like it takes forever.

"Harvey, do you have any hand sanitizer?" I ask when I walk in the door looking distractedly at my repulsive hands. I probably shouldn't have even touched the door knob.

"Sorry,_ I'm _fresh out_._" Said a voice. But wasn't Harvey's or Rachel's. My head snapped up and my eyes lock with ones lined in black, messy circles. My eyes widened with surprise and he grinned wide enough to split his red, painted lips.


	2. Dirty Litte Secret

**Omg A new chapter? Liek Woah. ;) Hope you like it! Also, just a note to anyone who doesn't review but still reads and enjoys: I will hunt you down. :D Kay?**

**I don't own the Joker, Harvey Dent, GPD or Rachel Dawes but I DO own Carley. And I believe clowns are public property.**

I squint as my eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark room, the sun having been blocked out of Harvey's office by the white, aluminum shades covering the large windows. Harvey and Rachel are blindfolded and bound to chairs facing away from each other back to back, duct-tape over of both their mouths. I gasped and raised a hand covered with forgotten bacteria to my mouth. Harvey wasn't moving. Thick blood was matted down the left side of his head and face but-_Thank God!_-he was still breathing. How long has he been like this? I must have spoken with him on the phone ten minutes ago, tops! Rachel, on the other hand was very much awake and struggling uselessly in her chair. She may have been a second thought but I'm glad she's not hurt. I'm not cold enough to want her dead.

My eyes suddenly sting with realization and I drop my purse. It was Harvey's blood I had touched on the joker card. That card _was_ left for me by _this_ man. I swallow thickly and glare at the grinning 'joker' who was standing not five feet away from me.

There were three other men in the room besides the two held captive and the man who had answered my question when I first, blindly entered the room. I shifted my eyes back to him. He has a small knife in his gloved hand and he's still smiling menacingly at me. I would have normally categorized him as a regular, tall criminal if not for his garish makeup and fashion sense. I'm not sure if _'makeup'_ is what most people would call it because it certainly wasn't put on to make him look more attractive. It was meant to frighten people and in spite of myself, I _was_ scared. He looked like a demented clown from hell with those black eyes, the chipping white base layer and that crimson, stretched smile painted over his... are those scars? _Oh god_. His old fashion coat was deep plum in color which contrasted grossly with his greasy green-tinted hair. He looked like something out of a comic book, but this was all too real for me to process at one time. I tilt my head and squint at him.

His eyes shifted to the side for a second. Blinking, his messy smirk fell instantly. "You know, _doll_, it's rude to stare-uh." He growled, sounding like I had somehow insulted him. I'm still standing frozen in the doorway. _Carley, why don't you go introduce yourself to the nice man who's holding a knife and your brother hostage?_ Seriously, what did he expect me to do? Of course I was going to stare at him. Didn't he know how he looked? I opened and closed my mouth a few times trying to think of something to say but nothing came to mind. I think I'm in shock. I took a tentative step forward, confusion screwing up my face, and leaving the door open incase I needed to run. The clown had his hands on his hips as though waiting for a handshake, a pat on the back, a terror filled scream. Anything.

"What's going on?" I forced out awkwardly. "What have you done to them?"

"We just played with them a bit," he spoke and his face stretched in a way that only he could call a smile. "Wouldn't want to hurt our White Knight in training, now would we?"

Rachel 'mmph'ed desperately when she heard our brief trade of words. The man with the makeup turned to look at her sharply and waved vaguely to a guy by the window. Window man rushed her quickly. "Hush-up now, doll face." I heard the masked clown grumble and with a mighty swing, whacked her in the head with the butt of his gun, seemingly knocking her out in one hit. I gasped loudly at the meaty sound the object made against her skull.

"Oh my God! What did you just do?" I'm not sure why I asked that. It was more out of disbelief and actual bewilderment. As if seeing the blood on Harvey's face wasn't enough, actually seeing some violence finally shocked me into a more solid state of realization.

"What the HELL is going on?" My voice shakes noticeably. I insist on getting some answers though I'm hardly the one who should be demanding anything in my position. This is not a dream. This is really happening. I'm not in some movie; were actually in trouble here. Trying to put on a brave face, I stand a little taller.

Ignoring my outburst, the man in charge shifted his weight onto his other foot and considered me for a moment, his knife tapping his chin in thought. Instead of answering my question he began to walk slowly in long, drawn steps, pacing the floor like a caged tiger. His shoulders were hunched and he drug his feet slightly. My mind was racing a mile a minute. I looked from him, to his knife, to the other men in the room, to my brother and back to _him_ and his strange walking. His deep purple coat shifted with his every move. He had my full attention. A man with a clown mask coughed in the distance.

"I'm here be_cause_ I have... a little offer to make you. Well," he squinted momentarily and licked his lips quickly, "it's not really an _offerrr_." Stopping walking, he looked at me. It felt like he could see inside my head. "Not unless you'd like your _big brother_ and his _girl_, here, to _die-uh_." He giggled but it sounded nothing close to cute. It was the wheezey sort of titter of a man who had left his sanity behind a long time ago. The sound scrapes at the inside of my skull irritatingly.

His laugh dieing down he tongues the scars on the inside of his cheek and waits for a reply. He had completely ignored my question. If it wasn't an offer then it was a demand. What was this guy up to? "Who _are_ you?" I asked, frowning and taking another step forward. I was secretly trying to edge my way over to Harv and Rachel. Ignoring me again, he watched me like a hawk. I guess I wasn't being sneaky enough. Changing tactics, I asked, "What do you _want_ from us?"

He grinned. Apparently, I had finally asked the right thing. I was now watching the other masked men in the room. They held large, black automatic guns in their gloved hands. None of them were as 'well dressed' as the menacing man addressing me but maybe that was meant to make him the focal point of this visit. The man I have now mentally dubbed 'the Joker' pivoted on the spot and walked briskly over to Harvey and Rachel. He stood by my unconscious brother and aggressively grabbed his chin, turning his unresponsive face towards me. There was more blood than I had thought.

You see this face, he asked joyfully. I nodded hesitantly, keeping my eyes on Harvey and only Harvey.

"So does Gotham. Every day of their goddamn lives they see this guy on TV, looking important and blabbing his mouth off." He paused for what I can only assume was effect. "Most people—now, I'm not saying _all_ people—most people look at this face, this handsome, confident face of _Har_vey Den-_tuh_ and they see _hope_. _Hope_ that this damned city can someday…" he struggled for the right word then used his free hand to show something coming up and out of his chest, "_cure_ it's nasty rash it so fondly calls 'crime.'" I raised my eyebrows in speculation, but I was still looking at Harvey. I wasn't quite close enough to do anything to help him out but I was still inching my way to him. I know Harv would be furious if he were awake. The other men in the room were slowly circling us like wolves on a fresh kill.

"And you, Blondie, are going to be the one to fix that." My vision snapped back to those black hole eyes and I blurted out, what?

"You heard me." I heard him. I eyed the clowns with guns, the furthest not three feet away now. I meant, what in the Hell did he mean by it?

He grinned broadly at my bluntness. "Ahh… I _mean_, when you're through with him, no one is going to see anything _good_ about Harvey Dent anymore." He abruptly dropped Harvey's head and I watched it fall limply back onto his chest. My hand reached out half heartedly as if I could save him. That when I have to go for it.

I lunge at Harvey but I'm too slow. Either that or he was too quick.

"Hey!" He snarls, "None of **that**!" The Joker slammed me bodily against the wall knocking the wind out of me, grabbing my jaw and brandishing a small knife at me. There was no use struggling at this point. My face in his tight grip, he used his gloved thumb to push up one side of my mouth, forcing my lips into a pained smirk. "Smile!" I glared at him, the knife that was now digging into my abdomen and my inability to do anything to stop him. My thick business jacket was thankfully strong enough to stop any real injury from occurring. For now.

"How can you expect me to smile right now!?"

"People, _like you,_ don't know the true meeeaning of happiness."

"Oh?" I grunted the question, "And people like _you do_?"

"Yessss," he hissed through his grinning yellow teeth. He licked his bottom lip on one quick swipe. "Little princess' like_ you_ have had everything given to them on _siiilver platterrrs_ by their _successful _big brothers," he added in a mocking tone, giving the blade a little twist. I flinch in spite of myself. "When you have that _taken a-way_, you'll realize how uh… good you had it. Key word: **Had**," The last word was practically roared at me, if humans are capable of that. I averted my eyes from his pressing closeness and increasing loudness; his heavily breathing split grin spitting in my face. I couldn't stand to look into those black eyes of his any longer. They were poisoning my mind. When I looked at him I couldn't concentrate on a damn thing.

"And what i_s_ _that_ supposed to mean?" I knew exactly what he was getting at but he could have never been more wrong. I raged for a fleeting moment, attempting to push his thick hands away from my face but failed. He slammed my head into the wall for good measure causing stars to explode in my vision.

"'People like you' who have never experienced the _paaain_ of living in the real world," he leaned more heavily onto me against the wall, blade still pressed just under my ribs, "'_People like you'_ who have never known the suffering of—"

"You _don't_ know me." I whispered furiously. Interrupted, he turned his head sharply, looking at me critically out of the corner of his eye. He yanks my chin down so that I had to look up at him.

His scars smiling for him he observes in an enlightened way, "Ohh… Maybe Goldie Locks has already met her _big. Bad. Wol_-fuh. Hm?" His sour breath is washing over me in hot waves; a hint of a smile reached his eyes, my mouth rippled in a frown as I swallowed thickly. There was a chuckle somewhere to our left and I was suddenly dreadfully aware of the other men in the room again. They had disappeared from my mind completely but you can hardly blame me. Until that moment I was much too involved with my dilemma at hand to really care about anything else but _him _and myself. The way he was hassing me must have been comical to his men. Bastards.

"Well, what_ev_er happened in your precious little uh… pas_**t**_ will have to _wait_ because I think you have a few more important things to worry about right now. I know all about your upcoming appearance on the boob tube. I think you know what I want to happen."

I struggle again, reminding myself bitterly of Rachel while she was still conscious, and I frown in utter confusion. It's so hard to think when you're being assaulted and shouted so close to your face.

"Huh.. Maybe you don't. I thought you were smarter, babe. I won't lie. I'm a little disappointed," he says with a teasing 'tisk, tisk' tone of voice. Before I could open my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his 'disappointment', he plowed on, "I don't care _what_ you do, tell the truth, spin me a tall tale. I luh-_hu_-vve stories. Honestly, I don't give a flying rat's ass. All I need you to do is make sure that Harvey doesn't get elected to be Gotham's new, _hon_ored D.A."

My frown turned into a scowl. I preferred confusion to the sordid bull shit spilling out of his scarred face.

"Make. Him. Look ba-duh." Each word was punctuated with a forced nod of my head. His grip on my jaw was becoming incredibly painful and his knife has somehow wandered up to my right cheek. I taste blood from the cuts my own teeth have carved into the maw.

"You get to play the part of the spiteful little sister. Doesn't sound too different than the usual you?" He slammed me again into the sheet rock I was already pressed to. Stars are all I can see again. He really loves doing that, doesn't he? "The only thing is: you can't tell them your working for me or else… they both die."

"Bu-but they'll hate me!"

He throws his head back and cackles. "Yep," he says between hoots, "that's the _pl_-an! It's either _this_ or you don't have them at all."

_I'm so glad your enjoying my misery._ "I can't _do_ that! You're insane!" I shout over his piercing laughter.

His hyena-like barking stops in an instant and I regret my accusation that very moment. By the look of death he gives me with his kohl-lined eyes I know what I just said was the absolute worst thing I could have ever uttered in his presence. He launches me to the side where I hit the rough, office carpet with bone shattering force. Without warning he dives down on top of me and straddles my hips, no, _sits_ on my pelvis and before I can even react he takes his switchblade and plunges it straight down into my left shoulder. I shriek in agony and surprise. All lucid thoughts vanish from my brain completely. There is only pain. His purple, leather palm in presses hard into my throat to hold me down and he twists the blade and drags it out of my deltoid excruciatingly slowly. I writhe and grab for my fervently gushing muscle in vain. Hyperventilate is too weak a word for what my body is doing at this point. My vision is completely white and my ears are ringing.

His cheek presses against mine and he seethes into my ear, "I'm no_**t**_. Insane." He exhales hotly on my neck and my eyes unfocus and roll back in my head making my eyelids waver. "Now, where's your wallet?" I feel his textured cheek form a wicked smirk against my own. "I need to steal it."

"… Uh…" is the only sound I can make. Hot blood is poring over my fingers where they press over my fresh wound. Chuckling lowly he gropes into all my pockets, at least, I think that's what he's doing. I also think that he tosses my cell phone into the wall. I still can't focus on anything except my slightly twitching arm. He gives up after checking every pocket in my suit but he does a double take at my necklace. It's gold and it was my mother's. Fingering it he looks into my eyes, that inhuman smile of his spreading wider every second, yellow fangs showing like a fiend. I force my nerves to obey and shake my head 'no'.

"P-please… do… n't" I choke out, grabbing feebly for his wrist. My hand is sticky with my own blood. When did everything go so wrong?

"Hah. Shouldn't have said anything, _doll_ face." He purrs and yanks it thin chain from my neck. I cry out, tears spring to my already pouring eyes. I didn't realize that would hurt, too, though I can't really feel much else than my throbbing shoulder. "Have to make this con-_vin_-cing, _don't_ we?" He gives me a once over and looks off to the side for a flash in thought. "Oh! That's right!" He grabs my lapels but stops and gives my "I believe in Harvey Dent" button a look of disdain. He rips it off and throws it across the room hitting one of his goons in the leg. Gigging, he gives me a brief smirk, his face a little too close for comfort, he returns to my lapels and rips them apart, popping my first few buttons. What the hell is he doing?

He gets up and walks over me awkwardly. Thankfully, he seems to be done with me. Done being so close that I can't breathe. Done putting me though the worse physical pain I've ever felt. I take this time alone to curl myself into a little ball and sob. I'm still clutching onto my shoulder for dear life so I roll onto the side that doesn't rub my injury into the carpet. This also means that I can't see the Joker or anyone because I'm facing the wall. Did I mention that I'm not productive when I panic?

I hear the voice I've come to hate call back to me, "Ah! Found your wallet, Miss Carley-Charley! It was in your purse. Imagine that." I can hear him lick his lips from across the room. I squeeze my eyes shut and pretend not to hear him. I just hope he thinks I've fainted or something. I hear the men tromping around the office, destroying things. Then I see my cell phone sitting in the shallow puddle of blood I've leaked onto the floor. I need to call the police. Right now. Slowly I reach for my phone trying to move too quickly and I punch in the infamous '911.' But I don't pick it up to my face. I whisper but I know they can hear me. "We need help in Dent's office. ASAP."

Foot steps behind me tell me that someone there. A big shoe steps over me and stomps on my phone, it beeps, flustered, and crunches and when the foot lifts the phone is unrecognizable. The Joker squats down touches my wounded deltoid (I flinch at his touch and moan in pain. I'm sure he enjoys that.) and turns me towards him. "Look at me. _Hey_," His voice is rough. A pink tongue slips out momentarily, "I heard that little phone call but it's okay because that's what I wanted you to do. When they get here just tell the police that you were robbed. 'Cause it's not a lie. You really were!" He laughs at this. He seems to do that at the worst possible times. "Just don't tell 'em about our little uh… talk. Oh, and I'm not sure if you should show up at the T.V. studio looking like that." He pokes me in the knife-hole with his finger as hard as he can. As I whimper desperately, I faintly hear him galumphing away. And of course he's laughing.

There's a joker card in front of me. Again. It says on it in fat, black letters:

**WHATEVER YOU DO, DON'T TELL ANYONE**

I shudder and start crying again. And I deeply resent myself for it. GPD are on their way. I don't have to think anymore. Now I can finally let myself do what I've wanted to for the last ten minutes. Pass out. Goodbye reality. I would say it was nice to meet you, but then I would be lying.

Just before I faint, an 'Alice in Wonderland' quote echoes in my mind over lapping onto itself as my mind slips.

"_After this I should think nothing of falling down stairs_."

Welcome to daily life in Gotham City, Carley Dent. It gets a lot worse from here on out.


End file.
